


A Place for the Desperate (A Timely Remix)

by navaan



Category: 1872 (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Remix, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Steve thinks Tony has escaped from his cell and won't be back, so he gives in to a little fantasy...
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Exchange





	A Place for the Desperate (A Timely Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Farm for the Horny and the Desperate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113385) by [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria). 



> Remix of the awesome [A Farm for the Horny and the Desperate ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113385) by [HogwartsToAlexandria ]()! I hope you like the 1872 version! :)

It was dark outside and faint music was drifting down main street from the Casino. But Steve’s mind was preoccupied. It had been a day.

Which he supposed was why he was sitting in the cell of their tiny town prison where he’d left Stark locked up for his own good hours ago and where he’d found an empty cell when he’d come to check on him, cell door left ajar.

It wasn’t the first time Tony had used his knowledge of looks and tools to walk out as soon as he had sobered up. It always left Steve bereft and worried.

He could only imagine what their town blacksmith was up to now.

He would be back at the Casino’s saloon, drinking himself to death. _Or_ he would be upstairs with one of the girls…

Steve had known Stark for long enough. He understands the need to seek out oblivion.

He had his own burdens to carry. His own _secrets_. His own ways to forget the world now and again.

Yes, he had secrets.

Nobody knew he was thinking of Stark too much, too often, too intensely. Even now, sitting here on an uncomfortable cot, imagining what Tony might be up to had led to thoughts… Thoughts he should be ashamed of but that carried him along.

His head thrown back, hand on his cock he sighed and let the fantasy of Tony with one of the girls drift into the sweeter one that had plagued him all day — unable to act on it — of Stark… _Tony_ on his knees, here in the cell, here where Steve could make sure he was neither causing trouble nor getting into some.

In the dim light of the two oil lamps it was so easy to close his eyes and call up the image of it, let his hands wander and imagine the hand pulling his cock into life, was a mouth, knowledgeable teasing lips… Tony, he imagined, would look perfect on his knees between his legs. He would be good at it too. A moan escaped his lips just thinking it, flexing his fingers, and quickening the pace.

Yes, Tony would be so good at it, perfect… demanding even in a show surrender.

And he would give… give Steve what he needed, make sure Steve was moaning....

He let the second hand find its way down to his balls, by now his pants were hanging wide open and it was easy to let himself sink back against the cot, head resting on the uncomfortable pillow they kept there. 

Too good, he thought and imagined the rhythm he was setting with his hands was Tony’s head bobbing up and down, teasing him to moan. Before the sound could be released outside the fantasy his hand snapped up, he bit the back of it.

There was no need to be quiet. Nobody was in the sheriff's office. As always he was alone and craving…

Finally he bucked up in pleasure into the sure grip of his hand, let himself go, let the second hand join in again. He needed this, fast and hard… and Tony, the image of Tony being the one doing it to him. He would bury his hands in his hard and make him take the whole length of his cock until…

A sighed moan rose from his chest — an _Oh_ of desperation and promised release that turned into _To… ny_ along the way.

He wanted the blue eyes to watch him from down there, wanted those surprisingly strong hands on him, wanted that brilliant mind to be so occupied with Steve, Steve, nothing but Steve, until he could forget about the drinking.

Jealousy spurred him when he remembered that the girls at the Saloon might be getting some of the Stark money that was left…

“Steve are you…?”

The voice went right to his cock even though he froze, when he realized the door to the small prison had crashed open. His eyes flew open.

It was Tony. Standing in the door, blue eyes surprisingly alert and wide open as he took in the picture Steve was presenting in the prison cell — that not long ago _he’d_ occupied.

Steve could do nothing to escape that gaze. He couldn’t hide. There was no blanket, no fabric, no way to pull up his pants or protect his modesty. His hand is wrapped around his hard cock that proudly stands up and turns even stiffer now that Tony’s here, staring. No use denying this.

Even being caught now was excitement.

“You should have knocked, Tony,” he huffed, embarrassed. “Although I’m quite sure I locked that door.”

Tony’s eyes widened, _snapped up_ to meet his gaze. 

Steve swallowed thickly, and his cock jumped happily in his hand, when he realized _what_ Tony’s eyes had been glued to until now.

“Your locks don’t keep me in or out,” Tony said and his voice sounded like dry sand. Then his blue gaze sharpened. 

_Not drunk_ , Steve thought, and wondered where he’d been if not the saloon? 

“Sure you wanted me to kock, sheriff,” Tony said thickly.

And he wasn’t running, wasn’t making dirty jokes or laughing at him. No, Tony’s gaze slid back down to Steve’s crotch.

Where Steve’s hand was still on his cock.

Tony stepped in, closed the door behind him and it sounded like _he_ was locking the door this time.

“What are you doing, Stark?” Steve tried for his usual snear, the exasperated huff he reserved for Tony when he was at his most impossible and frustrating.

Normally Tony reacts to that in one of two ways: becoming more annoying and frustrating — or withdrawing behind a mask of polite neutrality. This time his reaction was anything but polite neutrality. 

“What are _you_ doing, sheriff? A good catholic boy and all.” Tony sing-songed letting his west coast accent bleed through a little more than usual. 

It was the obvious question and Steve wasn’t going to shy back from it. “Any man who _is_ wouldn’t need to ask.”

Tony had arrived at a slow pace inside the door of the cell and pulled it closed behind himself, then leaned against the bars. Then he grinned. “It sounded like you were looking for me, Steve. What were you thinking?”

Blue eyes sparkling with mirth that didn’t hide the fire behind it. 

Steve wasn’t going to hide from it either.

“You. I was thinking about you.”

“I’m here,” Tony sing-songed in the same tune as before too controlled for Steve’s liking.

He pulled his hand away and let Tony see that he was still hard.

“You on your knees in front of me, licking my dick better than any of the ladies at the saloon ever could, swallowing it whole, letting me ravage your mouth…”

He’d never talked like this to Stark. Had he ever talked like it to anyone? Even when he’d been among soldiers? 

The noise Tony made before he could control himself, a surprised whimpering noise — _need_ — was the immediate indication that he wasn’t going to run from Steve now. Steve sat up fully, unwilling to miss this — but Tony had already sunken to his knees, eyes on Steve’s erection.

Tony’s lips were next to Steve’s cock when he spoke next. “Show me, sheriff.”

Mesmerized Steve leaned down, holding Tony’s gaze.

“Ravage my mouth,” Tony said with firm simplicity — like he’s one of the girls with a customer. But this was different, here in this cell. It should be dirty and only felt intimate. 

Then Tony bobs the head of Steve’s cock in his mouth and Steve forgot everything but the fantasy. He was no longer the sheriff, here he was just a man who’d not been with anyone for too long, a man who’d wanted _this_ , exactly _this_ for months.

His fingers stroked Tony’s check, then both hands buried themselves in Tony’s hair and he pushed forward, felt Tony’s throat relax around the hard length and pulled out and pushed, again and again and again until he felt Tony’s mustache tickle his skin, felt the moan around his cock as much as he heard it.

Tony’s tongue was doing things to him _nobody_ had ever done to him before.

It was the fantasy, better than the fantasy…

He bucked into that welcoming wet heat. 

Tony’s hands were grasping his hips. He was pushing him down onto his cock harder, holding him there, moving him harshly to make it better.

His toes were curling in his boots and then he heard Tony whimper. Realized the man was touching himself, turned on and helpless to do anything but pleasure Steve.

The realization of Tony’s excitement at being ravaged tipped him over the edge.

He came, pushing himself harsly into Tony’s mouth for the final few bucks, heard Tony moan in unmistakable satisfaction and only let go, when his own come was bubbling from Tony’s mouth and across his cheek and chin.

They were both too wrecked to speak for a moment, Tony’s suit completely ruined.

“Still think I should have knocked?”

“I should lock you in and keep you all to myself,” he said, hand still in Tony’s hair. “Would keep you out of trouble too.”

Tony got up and sat down beside him on the cot.

“You can try,” he suggested. “You’d need better locks.”

Sliding a finger along Tony’s check to his lips, smearing the signs of his own release along them, he whispered. “I know a blacksmith. I’m sure he can forge me chains to hold you.”

Tony’s eyes snapped up to meet his, nostrils flaring. He’d just been told to forge his own shackles — agreeing to something more if he agreed. 

He didn’t answer, didn’t agree exactly, but then nodded. “Good thing I had planned to be back before you noticed I was gone. Good thing I didn’t knock either,” he concluded.

Steve stroked his cheek and nodded. He was going to take him to bed later. Make sure he wanted to stay there without shackles. 

“Good thing you ran away in the first place — and came back,” he agreed and brushed his lips briefly against Tony’s cheek in praise. Now the even better thing was to make him stay.


End file.
